Not Complete Distaste
by DemiandSelenaFan
Summary: She's the daughter of war heroes and he's the son of their enemy. He knows how he's supposed to feel about her, how she should feel about him. But things don't always work out the way they're supoosed to. 3 shot. First/Fourth/Seventh Years. Light cursing.


_Hi, em, so this is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfiction. I'm not even too sure how it turned out, but it'll be a three shot, one of first year, one of fourth year, and one of seventh year, and obviously it's Scorpius and Rose. I'm so nervous about posting this._

_I really hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think or if you have any criticisms so I can try and improve on the next two chapters._

_Also, Happy (way, way belated) Birthday to Abbie (Everafterjunkie), to whom this fic is dedicated. I really hope you love it. _

_And thank you to __**Rainy**__ (DancingRaindrops) for all your help and for giving me the push to actually write it. I so greatly appreciate it. _

_**Disclaimer: **__I clearly do not own Harry Potter. _

* * *

><p>He knew who she was, and how much he'd dislike her, even before he ever laid eyes on her that foggy September 1st. He'd spotted her from down the platform, not due to his father's curt nod in her parents' and uncle's direction, but for her wild red hair, which he associated immediately with the Weasley family. They were famous, and even he, despite the side on which his relatives had fought during the Battle of Hogwarts, knew the role Rose Weasley's family had played in the defeat of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named during the second Wizarding War. Nor was he dense enough to believe everyone would share his distaste of the eldest daughter of Ron and Hermione, Harry Potter's best friends. She had guaranteed popularity, while he only had a grasp on a one-way ticket to the Slytherin dormitories.<p>

He'd watched her and her cousin speak amiably with their parents before they boarded the train, oddly fascinated by the way they interacted with one another. Her mother playfully swatted at her father, while Albus and Harry had a seemingly intense conversation and her Aunt Ginny chatted quietly to the two youngest, holding her daughter close and stroking her hair softly. It was very foreign to him, and he stood in stiff silence with his parents, waiting for his mother to kiss him goodbye and wish him well, and his father to pat his back awkwardly and tell him to work hard or he wouldn't be allowed home for Christmas.

He didn't realise it, of course, being only eleven at the time, but that was when the seeds of jealousy were first sown. He wanted that - a family that acted like they liked you, and parents, especially a father, whom you didn't have to be ashamed of.

Ron Weasley was everything his father was not. Tall, longish red hair, burly, with slight stubble and a permanent, cheeky grin. He was the type of Dad who said embarrassing things in front of your friends and liked to take the mickey out of you, but would slip you a chocolate frog when your Mum said you'd had enough, or give you a Sickle or two extra every week so you could save up to buy some Nosebleed Nougats from your Uncle George's shop. Even though he knew they were strictly prohibited at Hogwarts.

He was the type of Dad you cringed over, but loved all the same. Not like his father, who was more likely to hug a Hippogriff than his own son.

After their awkward farewell, and a promise to do his best in every class (he did not miss his father's momentary glimpse over towards Rose then), he climbed onboard the scarlet Hogwarts Express without so much as a second glance back at his parents. 'Good riddance.' He didn't even bother to chastise himself as he almost spoke the thought aloud.

He'd expected to spend his very first train journey to Hogwarts alone. He knew his hair made him as instantly recognisable as Rose's did, as did his skinny frame and pointed chin, which normally meant wizard children, as well as Muggles, tended to avoid him like the plague, so he'd been more than surprised when his compartment door had been flung open and the head of Albus Potter had appeared between the frame. He'd glanced around at the otherwise empty seats, pushed his wire-framed glasses further up his nose and shot a shy smile at Scorpius.

"Hello," he greeted, "mind if we sit here? Everywhere else is full." Scorpius, too shocked that someone (let alone Harry Potter's son) was speaking to him to form coherent words, just nodded and watched as Albus, followed by a disgruntled-looking Rose and a lanky boy with neat brown hair, who looked both excited and frightened, all carrying an assortment of bags and rucksacks.

"Trust Mum and Dad to shift us onto a carriage full of students who just gawk at us," Rose muttered, blowing a stray auburn curl out of her eyes with a frustrated sigh. "I thought your Dad said it wouldn't be too bad."

The other boy, the one he did not recognise, lowered himself down into the seat opposite Scorpius while Rose sat beside him, and Albus made himself comfortable in the window seat, to the left of the increasingly uncomfortable blonde-haired boy.

"Yeah, well you know my Dad, likes to play down everything he does." At this, Albus gave an annoyed eye roll, while Scorpius shifted discreetly in his seat, his eyes on the far wall above the strange boy's head, trying to act like he wasn't listening. Which he wouldn't do, if it wasn't impossible not to hear everything in the enclosed space.

"Oh, Al, we're being rude," Rose piped in, her voice going up an octave, causing Scorpius to sneak a glimpse at her, which caused him to nearly jump out of his seat in fright when he found her bright blue eyes staring straight at him, her gaze locked firmly on his, "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Rose Weasley, pleasure to meet you." She held out her hand, smiling sweetly, eyes grave and expectant as Scorpius cautiously leaned across and grasped it, shaking it firmly.

"Scorpius," he returned, choosing purposely to leave out his surname. They would know who he was, he was almost sure their parents had pointed him out back on the platform, but if they were choosing to ignore his past, he was not going to draw any more attention to it either.

"This is my cousin, Albus," she gestured, still grinning at the boy beside Scorpius, "right tosspot he is, doesn't much like admitting we're related, but it's through my Dad, so that's to be expected." She giggled, highly thrilled at getting a reaction from her cousin, who threw a clumsy punch in her general direction, as well a playful glare.

"And this is Hunter," Albus added in, nodding towards the third, quiet boy, "He's Muggleborn. From Ireland, terrified to be here. What'd you say your parents worked as again?"

Hunter, who seemed far too intimidated to have the ability to speak, widened his brown eyes in Albus' direction and opened and closed his mouth in the fashion of a fish.

"D-doctors," he stuttered, brown pupils flicking from Albus to Scorpius to Rose in quick succession. Rose, for her part, seemed to find this amusing, and was chuckling under her breath in the corner as she fished in her pocket for something.

"Doctors are like Healers, Mum says," Albus nodded wisely, his eyes trained on Hunter like he was a shiny new broomstick. "My Mum's a Healer," he told Hunter, smiling at the Muggleborn, "Dad's an Auror, so's Uncle Ron, they work with the Ministry. That's like the hooverment, Granddad Weasley says anyway."

"It's the government," Rose chimed in nonchalantly, counting out the Galleons in her palm, "and a Hoover. That's something Muggles use instead of Scourgify. I read about them in Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles. Speaking of," at this Rose looked up at Scorpius, and he couldn't help but turn up the corners of his lips up to match hers, "have you read Hogwarts: A History? My Mum's bought me the revised edition for my birthday. I really enjoyed it."

"You practically know it off by heart now, you've bloody well read it so many times," Albus laughed, causing Rose to stop smiling at Scorpius and turn to frown indignantly at her cousin. Scorpius watched as the two continued to stare one another down, before Albus sighed in defeat and turned back to face the Muggleborn once again.

They struck up conversation, to which Scorpius paid no attention. He was beginning to realise that both Rose and Albus liked to talk, a lot. And that the Hunter boy, who must have no clue as to whom they were related, had a very legitimate reason to be daunted by the pair.

"I've read it," Scorpius hadn't even realised he'd spoken until he found Rose watching him expectantly again, "A History, I mean. It was really interesting. What about Important Modern Magical Discoveries? My Mum lent it to me. I think it's in my trunk. You can borrow it if you want."

"Really?" Her eyes had lit up in a way that made something in Scorpius' chest swell as she leaned towards him. "Would you mind terribly?"

"Not in the slightest." Scorpius was glad to see her smile get even bigger. "No trouble."

"Not in the slightest!" Suddenly, a very high-pitched squeal in a mock British accent tolled in from directly in front of Scorpius. "You sound like a right gobshite. Do you always go on like that?"

The compartment immediately fell silent, and Scorpius could feel his face heating up with both shame and embarrassment. He'd expected the ridicule from both children of wizards and Muggleborns once word got around about his father, but he thought he'd at least be off the train and sorted into his house (regrettably most likely Slytherin) before it began. At least in Slytherin, he'd be sharing a room with kids whose parents had been on the same side as his in the war. He may not like that his parents had fought against Rose's and Albus', but at least his fellow Slytherins wouldn't pester him about it.

Scorpius remained quiet and immediately lowered his head to stare at his hands, and tried not to blush, or worse, begin to cry. The only sound he could hear was that of the wheels below the train, spinning quickly, and making low clattering sounds. He could feel Hunter's eyes on him, as well as Rose's and Albus', but he didn't dare look up. He couldn't help the way he spoke, his mother and father had brought him up that way, and he knew no different, but it hurt him all the same.

"Hunter," Rose hissed, her voice deep and angry, "there's no need to be impolite."

"Oh, come off it, Rose!" At this voice, Scorpius stopped twisting his thumbs to look back up at Albus Potter, who was glowering at his cousin. "You know who his Dad is. You know what he used to think of Aunt Hermione. Bet you he's been raised the same. Probably can't stand that someone with a less than pureblood status is sitting with him, let alone insulting him."

The tension that rose the minute Albus finished speaking could have been cut with a knife. Rose Weasley ceased looking angry, and her features merely morphed into confusion and frustration. Like she quite honestly couldn't believe the words that were coming from her cousin's mouth. Eyebrows furrowed, pink lips set in a hard straight line, she regarded her cousin with apprehension.

"I don't know, Al, I'm not too sure how Draco Malfoy raised his son, but I know Harry Potter would be ashamed if he knew how you were acting. You sound like James, Al, and not in a good way."

Her face was changing rapidly from its light tan to a beetroot red, flushing her cheeks, then ears, and her neck. She looked positively livid, and Scorpius was at once glad he was not on the receiving end of her temper. He stood quickly, brushing off his school robes, and striding to the compartment door, sliding it open quickly. Scorpius didn't want to start an argument. He didn't like fights, he got enough of that when he went to visit Lucius in Azkaban. He certainly didn't want to be the catalyst for one between the two first years who were guaranteed power within their peers. He didn't want them to make his life hell for the next seven years.

"Don't worry about it." Scorpius faced the compartment once again, focusing only on the view the window allowed of the passing scenery. "You're spot on about my father. Don't want to make a nuisance of myself. I'll find elsewhere to sit. See you at Hogwarts." He'd glanced once more at Rose as she made to stand up, her face now as red as her hair, which somehow managed to be getting bushier, before departing swiftly, and trying in vain not to let the tears overflow.

* * *

><p>"RAVENCLAW!"<p>

Scorpius Malfoy sat on the stool in front of the entire student population of the greatest wizarding school in the world in complete and utter shock. A loud whisper rippled through the crowd facing the front of the Great Hall as the Ravenclaw table gave a light, unenthusiastic applause, and everyone, including most of the first years, had turned to one another, whispering in confusion. First a Muggleborn in Slytherin, Hunter Cotter, the boy from the train, no less, and now a Malfoy in Ravenclaw? And the hat had barely thought about its decision either, it had hardly covered his nearly white hair before it screamed his house name through the Hall, causing all chatter to dissolve immediately and every head to turn and observe him with cautious uncertainty.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, feeling the hat squirm on his head, tightening its grip slightly, so as to give Scorpius a pinching feeling in his temples, similar to the pain one felt when they had a headache.

"I said Ravenclaw, Mr. Malfoy." The hat shifted again, but this time, Scorpius knew it had not mistaken him for someone else. "Hop to it."

Then Professor Vector, Deputy Headmistress, lifted the hat from atop his head, and Scorpius, paralysed, remained still for a moment before standing and meandering dazedly towards the Ravenclaw table. Every gaze in the room was on him as he passed the small group of first years left to be sorted, and lowered himself onto the bench, a little way up from the previous first year who'd been sorted into the same house. He glanced up at the wall hangings floating above him, and the enchanted sky glistening with stars. Blue and gold emblazoned with an eagle fluttered calmly above him, the material rippling softly.

'I'll be damned,' he thought to himself, 'a Malfoy in Ravenclaw.' His eyes travelled away from the house - his house - banners, down to the table and his fellow Ravenclaws, resting on their uniforms adorned with blue ties and collars. He'd always thought blue looked better than green with his pasty skin and grey eyes.

The students remained hushed for a moment more before the whispers began again, and the older years talked hurriedly so as to catch up with their friends.

"Potter, Albus," called Professor Vector, and at that the Hall fell noiseless again, and even Scorpius couldn't help but be curious. Hushed awe fell across the Hall, as everyone watched the son of the Chosen One make his way up the steps to take his seat on the stool. The hat's creases crinkled, and the hollows of its eyes burrowed deep, thinking hard.

"Another Potter," the deep voice of the hat droned, humming deeply, "you are always difficult to place, definitely so." Scorpius could have sworn he heard the whole hall take in a deep collected breath, and the pair of fourth years sitting a couple of students down from Scorpius actually leaned forward, while he could have sworn he spied a second year Gryffindor taking a photograph.

"Intelligent, but I see you do not value that above all else," the hat hawed, wriggling on Albus' head, "and you are not patient. Hot-tempered, from your mother I must presume, so no Hufflepuff are you. Slytherin or Gryffindor it is. You'd do great in Slytherin, I can tell. Ambitious, driven, goal-oriented."

Scorpius would say, in future years to come, that it was the only moment during his time at Hogwarts where one could have heard a pin drop. No one, himself included, wanted to see Harry Potter's son in Slytherin. That was Voldemort's old house. The wizard Albus' father had spent seven years trying to destroy.

The hat stilled suddenly atop Albus Potter's head, and its tip tilted forward slightly.

"What's that? Anything but Slytherin? Your father's been telling you stories, I see." The hat restarted its writhing slowly again. "Well then. If you're as sure as he was... Gryffindor!"

The entire table to the left of Scorpius burst into hoots and cheering. Some of the younger students had even stood up, and James Potter climbed out to pat his brother proudly on the back and take a seat beside him. The Gryffindor table were all staring down at their newest recruit, and the students closest to Albus were talking animatedly with him.

"Ugh, they get all the luck. Gryffindor has both Potters, and we get a Malfoy," a whisper Scorpius was sure wasn't meant to be heard by him reached his ears from two fifth years, and he couldn't help but feel a sharp stinging at the back of his throat. He knew his father, not to mention his grandfather, would be disappointed in him. Disgraced, even.

"A Malfoy not in Slytherin is hardly a Malfoy at all," Lucius would spit next time they visited, he could even visualise his sneering face as he forced his eyes to the wooden Ravenclaw table. And if Scorpius was truly lucky, he'd even get a Howler, most likely from his rather loud-mouthed Aunt, an unmarried Daphne Greengrass, for all his peers to hear, so they'd know how disgusted his parents were with him as well.

Scorpius, not for the first time, began to wish for a different surname. Not one in comparison to Weasley or Potter, or even Longbottom or Lovegood. Just a normal one, like the first year now sitting below the sorting hat. Pye, Augusta had anonymity, something Scorpius had wished for his entire life. Any house would be happy to have her, she had no history, she was not expected to belong to any house. More importantly than that, no house would wish she'd been sorted elsewhere.

After a moment, Headmistress Sinistra cleared her throat loudly, and everybody feel silent again, watching the hat debate Miss Pye's fate.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The young girl, light, sleek brown hair glistening under the candle light, hopped happily off the stool, and skipped down the other end of the hall, taking her place proudly at the Hufflepuff table, as the rest of her house shouted approval of the sorting hat's decision.

"Hi," Scorpius looked up to see another first year boy, who seemed much too small for his robes, looking nervous, sitting straight across from him, and biting his lip, "my name's Fabian Chambers, third generation Ravenclaw, nice to meet you." He reached his hand across the table, and Scorpius, after staring at it for a second, brought his own out and grasped the tiny boy's hand, shaking it strongly.

"Pleasure," Scorpius whispered, as the next student made their way onto the stage, "Scorpius Malfoy. Supposed to be Slytherin."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"My Mum was in Slytherin," Fabian whispered, "probably knew your Dad. She'll be right disappointed I'm in Ravenclaw. Her name's Tracey. "

At this surprising statement, Scorpius regarded the boy with more thought. He wasn't the only one then. Fabian could've been Slytherin too. Fabian's Mum had probably been on his Dad's side during the war too. Probably wanted to stay back and fight with Voldemort, and like himself, Fabian probably wasn't proud of that.

"I'll ask my Dad," Scorpius said, though they both knew he'd forget. He wouldn't be seeing his Dad until Christmas, at best, and that was providing he got top marks.

Fabian gave Scorpius a shaky smile, before once again, everyone's attention was brought back to the front of the room.

"Weasley, Rose," Professor Vector called, and out of the three students left waiting, the only one with a mop of ginger curls stepped forward, face flooding crimson with embarrassment as she lowered herself down onto the seat.

"Mmmm," this time, the low sound of the hat was even louder than when it was on Potter's head, "a Weasley and a Granger. I remember those two very well indeed. The bravest and brightest. Took them an extended amount of time to get together if I recall correctly." At this, Rose's face seemed to redden all the more, and everyone else tittered softly, including the elderly Professor Flitwick, who turned to his colleague and mouthed something, pursing his lips into an 'O' shape and miming a wand movement as he did.

"That's them," was Rose's shaky answer.

"Both Gryffindors too. But," at this, he felt the whole room stiffen, and lean forward in anticipation. Albus and James had turned to one another in puzzlement, and Roxanne and Fred Weasley, third and fourth years respectively, also Gryffindors, seemed uneasy too, Scorpius spotted them exchanging worried glances, "you have more of a Granger mind, I see. Like your grandparents. You value your intellect. Very bright, very bright indeed. Wit almost beyond measure. RAVENCLAW!"

Rose seemed to still for a moment, before rising and making her way down to the very same table Scorpius sat at in a light daze as the whole Ravenclaw house roared with happiness, and the two older students who'd made him want to cry earlier high-fived in triumph.

As she reached the crowd on their feet cheering for her, Rose looked around in perplexity, catching Scorpius' grey eyes for a second. And there he saw it. The pain he felt at his hostile reception, she felt in being accepted. She wanted to be in Gryffindor as much as he didn't want to be in Slytherin, and that, he knew, was an awful lot.

"Honour, Ms. Weasley," a prefect had rushed to greet her, badge glistening, standing tall, as he shook her pale hand. She stood maybe three metres from Scorpius, her gaze now on this elder student, looking tiny and afraid. Under the pale yellow light of the candles, he could see her light freckles for the first time. Her red hair seemed more auburn now, flatter too, as if it had lost its life as she lost her hope of carrying on the Weasley legacy of Gryffindor heritage.

"Thanks," he could barely hear her as the student settled down, all reseating themselves, grinning at one another, as Rose took her own a little way up the table from Scorpius, and he swore he caught her wiping a tear away before his view was blocked by the prefect, and the penultimate student in Scorpius' class was called up to be placed by the hat.

* * *

><p>"Merlin's bloody blasted beard," Scorpius paused as he entered into the dark Ravenclaw common room, in the shadows cast by the plinth of Rowena. The wide, circular room was lit only by a dim fire on the far side of the space, sending the blue carpet, dotted with stars, and large bookcases into an eerie glow. Scorpius craned his neck, attempting to peer over the couch to catch a covert glimpse of who was sitting there, cursing loudly at half two in the morning.<p>

Scorpius had only dared to sneak out of his dormitory, filled with six other slumbering boys, because he had found it nearly impossible to sleep after he'd realised he'd forgotten the book his mother had lent him, and it was still resting on a table in the common room. He didn't want to face the wrath of Astoria if he'd lost or damaged the book, on top of how angry she'd be about his sorting.

He hadn't expected to encounter anyone at this hour, much less someone who now appeared to be crying. It was only when he crept soundlessly closer did he realise who exactly was also up late on their first night at Hogwarts.

Rose Weasley was sitting on one of the dark blue armchairs surrounding the mantle piece, wearing a maroon nightgown, her hair tied back in a messy bun, and her legs curled up underneath her. She was wiping furiously at her eyes, and sniffling loudly.

"Pardon me," Scorpius wanted to stop himself from speaking immediately, he knew how dodgy it must look, him lurking about the common room noiselessly, but as he neared the edge of the armchair, he couldn't seem to help himself, "are you okay?"

Rose snapped her head up, to see Scorpius Malfoy himself standing behind her, in a dark green robe, looking rather frightened, and daunted

"What?" her voice was croaking, and even if he hadn't seen her tears he would've guessed that she'd been upset, "oh, yes. Fine."

Scorpius stood clumsily to the side, playing with his thumbs, as an awkward silence descended on the pair.

"It's just..." she glanced over her shoulder, blue eyes bright in the faint firelight. It was only the embers glowing now, the tail end of the fire which had kept the homesick first years warm on their opening night at Hogwarts earlier on. Scorpius paused for a moment, before stepping around Rose's armchair, and lowering himself stiffly into the couch next to hers.

"I'm a Weasley you know," she whimpered into the dark, after what felt like a full hour of silence watching the flames die, "and they all expected me to be in Gryffindor, every last ruddy Weasley, and Potter for that matter. Did you see Roxanne's face? She was mortified."

Rose now looked accusingly at Scorpius, asking if he dared contradict her. In fact, Scorpius had seen her cousins' face, Roxanne and Fred's, and they hadn't seemed at all ashamed, puzzled maybe, if a little bewildered, but definitely not embarrassed. If Scorpius was honest, he'd go as far as saying she even looked proud.

"At least they're happy to have you here," Scorpius asserted, turning from Rose and facing straight ahead. Honestly, he couldn't believe what he was saying, much less to whom he was saying it, but he could feel her watching him now, patiently waiting for him to continue, "they all expected me to be in Slytherin, every last blooming student and teacher in Hogwarts. But none of them wanted me. Not even Slytherin, really."

Silence again. She was being awfully quiet for a Weasley.

"But my Dad, he'll be so disappointed," she murmured, lightly pulling down the sleeves of her nightgown over her hands, "he's going to hate me."

Scorpius couldn't help but scoff loudly at this.

"Don't be barmy!" Scorpius couldn't help but shouting, before he slapped a hand over his mouth, and tried to avoid Rose's irritated glare. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice much quieter and softer, "but seriously, you're mad. I've had an encounter with your Dad. He's just going to wonder if Ravenclaw has a chance at the Quidditch Cup."

"You've met my Dad?" She tucked an unruly red curl behind her ear.

"Yeah," he nodded, and was glad to see her smiling brightly at him, astonishment written in her every feature, as she listened intently, "once. Him and Harry Potter on Diagon Alley, in Quality Quidditch Supplies. I was getting a Quidditch care set, and your Dad was helping Harry pick out a broom for James for his birthday. They both knew who I was, everyone says I look just like my Dad, but they both still signed my set when I asked. Your Dad even asked whether I thought someone my age would want a Nimbus 2020 or a Firebolt 500."

"You helped pick out James' birthday present? Wicked," Rose seemed downright gleeful at the news, and thoughts of her father being angry seemed to dissipate. She'd always known, he thought, that her Dad was proud either way. She'd just needed someone to reiterate that.

"Besides, you know who my father is. He's going to hex me until my ears ring," he stuck his tongue out at her, grinning as she giggled softly into the collar of her night clothes.

"Thanks," she mumbled as her laughter subsided, "for reassuring me. And sorry about early on the train. Al's not too insufferable. James just tends to rub off on him from time to time."

Scorpius watched as she stood smoothing out her maroon gown and beaming at Scorpius.

"That's okay, not your fault," he shrugged, and sent her back a perfectly contented smile. She regarded him with an expression seemingly unreadable, nodded once, and headed towards the dormitories, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

"Oh, and Scorpius," he focused quickly on her as she called his name for the first time, "for what it's worth, I'm glad you're in Ravenclaw. I want you here."

With one final nod, she turned back towards the door beside the plinth, opening and shutting it delicately, with one final small smile in Scorpius direction, and a faint, "Night, Scorp," he wasn't even sure he heard.

One thing was definite though, his distaste Rose Weasley didn't stretch nearly as much as he thought it would. In fact, he didn't really dislike her at all.


End file.
